


For the World Itself

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Overwatch: theyre all lesbians, Requests, Soul Bond, ambiguous setting and enemies, its gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7414885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fareeha finds her soulmate the angel she always dreamed she was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the World Itself

**Author's Note:**

> Kirbykibble says:  
> Howdy do  
> I'm pretty much a slut for soulmate au's so how about that with rocket Angel
> 
> sure thing!!! i love fareeha so much i would sell my soul to have her shoot me with her rocket blaster  
> \--
> 
> If you're ready for my next thousand requests to be Genji-centric, then you're in for a treat. I only have the rest of this week and next to write until I'm without a computer until August, so, hopefully I'll be cranking those out soon. While youre waiting for me to post, you should check out my other Overwatch fics: http://archiveofourown.org/series/494398
> 
> thanks!

                The winds roared, wild and free, around her, lifting her hair and pushing air in and out of her lungs. Up here, above the ground, above people, she felt truly at ease. She was an eagle, soaring, no tether or tie to the earth, only the gust under her wings and the drive she needed to accelerate into the wild blue yonder. Fareeha smiled, proudly, determination building up in her chest like a force of nature, as she shot down on the enemies below her. Up here she could see everything, up here she could understand everything, up here she was untouchable.

               Her friends had always told her there was no way to remember that far back, to when she was maybe two or three, but Fareeha had always prided herself on the memory of that name prickling onto the back of her neck, finding a mirror and running to her mother. _Angela,_ it read, _Angela,_ she mouthed, the name foreign and different. “An ‘Angel’, don’t you think, Faree?” Her father had cooed. “Better start learning English now, my love.”

                And she had. Never the one for languages, she had picked up English if only to seek out her, to find _Angela_. She cut her hair short, the name visible from under. She had excelled through school, the military, and then the newly reformed Overwatch, only to find she did not know the names of her teammates well. It was always by some surname, by a codename, they went. Even she was guilty of it. But how else to work in a top secret militia than by an alias? If she wanted to exact justice, she had to let go of her name, if she wanted to fly, she had to let go of the gravity that pulled her down.

                That pulled her down.

                A scream escaped Pharah as she was hit in the hip, once, twice, once in the shoulder. The world that had been frozen around her dropped suddenly, and the ground seemed far closer than she had estimated. The top of the building met with her body, bones colliding on cement, as the enemies began ascending the stairways. If Fareeha could just move to her helmet, shot off by impact, she could make a distress call, signal to where she was. How could she have been caught off guard by the sky? The sound of footsteps and gunfire rose before it happened.

                Gunmetal and the sound of bullets being let lose shot over her head, into the opponent’s bodies, dropping one by one. She craned her head to see off the side of the building, an _angel._

                “ _Mercy._ ” She breathed. Golden vines and the touch of cool water surrounded her, warmed her very core. The bullets dissolved and Fareeha closed her eyes as her heart pumped back up to speed.

                “Call me Angela, darling.”

                Mercy reached out her hand, pulling Fareeha to her feet, much stronger than she looked. She looked back over her shoulder, the bodies frightening and raw against the heavenly beauty. “Let’s go.” Pharah clutched Mercy and shot off the roof, towards where the base was. “Thank you.” She whispered as they touched the ground, shoes just scraping the surface.

                “Of course, Pharah.”

                “Please, my name is Fareeha.” She clasped Mercy’s hands. “Fareeha. And you’re- you’re _Angela._ ”

                Something flickered in Mercy’s eyes. “Fareeha?”

               She nodded, smiling wide. With her helmet still somewhere on the roof, blown apart by impact, she turned around, pulling her hair to the side. In short cursive letters, deep brown, a name was written. “Is my name-?”

                “My- it’s on my-“ Angela slipped off her gloves, sliding up her shirt fabric and exposing her wrist.

                She had not expected it would be in the Arabic letters, but there, written like it had always meant to be there was her name. Her fingers brushed over Mercy’s skin, disbelieving, like she needed to feel it was there. “That’s my name.” She said after a moment. In wonder, Fareeha looked up at Mercy. “That’s my name.” She repeated. “And I have yours.”

                “Would you like to go for some coffee?” Mercy said through her grin. “There’s a good place just south of the base.”

                “I wouldn’t miss it for the _world._ ” Fareeha laughed, hugging her. “Not for the world itself.”


End file.
